


A Chrismas Story (the English translation)

by Frasers_soulmate



Series: Little Ben [6]
Category: due South
Genre: Childhood, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Other, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 14:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13789548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frasers_soulmate/pseuds/Frasers_soulmate
Summary: It's Christmas and Little Ben wants nothing more than his Dad to come home...well, and maybe a pair of hockey skates.





	A Chrismas Story (the English translation)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the translation of my German fic "Eine Weihnachtsgeschichte".
> 
> (Sorry, Mr. Dickens, that I stole the title, but I'm really bad with titles.)
> 
> Even if it's almost spring...well, almost, but we got an arctic cold here, so it still feels like Christmas. 
> 
> And because we all love Christmas in some ways, I thought I will do the translation. 
> 
> And here we go....

Ben hated Christmas.  
Well, he didn't hate it, just didn't like it very much.  
Not anymore.  
When his mother was still alive, Christmas was always something special. But now she had been dead for two years and the last Christmas had been horrible. At least it was sad. His grandparents, with whom he now lived, tried to make it as beautiful as possible, but he found it desolate. He was ashamed of such thoughts, his grandparents didn't deserve it. He could be glad that they had taken him in. Of course, he would have preferred to live with his father in their cabin, but he also understood that his father had to work and could not look after a nearly nine-year-old.  
His grandparents were simple people and very frugal. That didn't bother Ben, because his parents hadn't been rich either. The salary his father got wasn't much and he sent most of the money to the grandparents so that they could take care of Ben. Money meant nothing to him, but if his father came home for Christmas, that would be nice. Last year, all he wanted was for his Dad to come home and spend Christmas with him, but his wish didn't come true.  
Of course not.  
Grandmother Fraser always said, "Don't expect anything, then you will not be disappointed, and if you want something, you have to earn it."  
But he just had no idea how he should earn his father's love.  
When his Mum was still alive, he had always been looking forward to Christmas, it was said that Dad came home, they took a tree together from the forest and decorated. With homemade ornaments. And then they baked cookies and sang carols. Dad grunted like a bear and hit no sound, while Ben and his Mum had clear-cut voices. They laughed each time and Dad pretended to be offended, but Ben knew he was not. There were not many presents, but Ben was happy. His Dad always brought him a few small things and his Mum sewed him new clothes. He also always got a new book. He loved books and on Christmas Eve he read to his parents in front of the fireplace from the new book.

But now he wasn't looking forward to Christmas.

It was the last day of school and his classmates happily related how they spend Christmas and what gifts they would receive. Ben made himself very small and hoped they wouldn't notice him, but during the break they asked him, "Well, Fraser, what does your Superdad bring you for great gifts from his travels?" Ben didn't care and shrugged. The others kept on annoying him, but he remained calm and said only: "If I already knew that before, it would be no surprise."  
His schoolmates did not particularly like him because he liked to study and read a lot. But the teachers liked him all the more. That's why the other children annoyed and teased him. And so he was glad when they were released into the Christmas holidays.

He picked up his school bag and trotted home. The other children passed him laughing and threw snowballs at him. Then they threw him into the snow, his old, often-sewn school bag broke and his books and notebooks dropped into the snow.  
Laughing, the others ran away and he remained lonely and wet from the snow. Sighing, he picked up his books and tried to dry them with his clean white handkerchief his grandmother always gave him. Somehow he stuffed his wet books and notebooks into the broken school bag, tucked it under his arm, and shuffled home with his head bowed.  
No, he did not want to cry!

At home, grandmother was waiting for him and said, "Where have you been, Benton and why are you all wet? Didn't I tell you to pay attention to your things? What happened to your school bag?" She took it out of his hand and again the booklets and books fell out." Oh, Benton Fraser!", sighed grandmother. "I’m sorry.", Ben muttered with his head bowed and picked up the school supplies. "Yes, yes, yes ..." grumbled grandmother. "You keep putting on nonsense, we can not afford to buy you new things all the time.You really have to be more careful with what you have." "I'm sorry, Grandmother,", Ben said quietly. "All right,", grandmother replied, shaking her head. "Go and change, so you don't get a cold to all bad."  
Ashamed, the boy shuffled into his room.

It was cold. He had to chop wood and heat the stove in the chamber, but first he had to put on dry clothes because if he got sick, the grandmother would be disappointed.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Ben lay in his bed and couldn't sleep. He looked through the half-frozen window at the twinkling stars. 'Oh, Mum! How much I miss you ... 'He squinted and swallowed. Just do not cry! Grandmother said crying doesn't help. He had to be strong. He got up quietly and got dressed. Then he crept into the hallway. The old clock in the living room showed him it was only eight o'clock, but his grandparents were already in bed. They always got up very early. He took his coat, toque and mittens and dressed. Then he took the boots and slipped on the porch. There he put on his boots, so he wouldn't rumble through the house and wake the grandparents. He knew that when grandmother noticed he had sneaked out, there was trouble, but for the moment he didn't care. He wanted to be close to the stars, wanted to talk to his Mum in thoughts and he had written a Christmas wish list, which he wanted to put in the mailbox. Actually, he didn't believe in Santa, but what could it hurt?  
On the neatly folded letter was written:

Dear Santa!

Can you please tell my Dad to come home?  
That would be all.

P.S. Actually, I wanted to ask you if you have a pair of hockey skates left,  
they don't have to be new either, but that's no longer necessary, because I think I  
need a new school bag. An old one does it too, but it should be completely. Mine  
has broken today.

But only if that's possible.

Sincerely  
Your Benton Fraser

He put the letter in the mailbox and hoped it would be picked up by Santa Claus or one of his little helpers. Then he walked a few steps along the path. It was bitterly cold and his breath froze in the air, but he loved the cold. Cold was good. Cold numbed the soul and took the pain away. He looked at the sky. The stars sparkled and the brightest star flashed a few times. The boy smiled and waved to the star. "Hello, Mum," he said softly. "I hope you're fine up there in heaven. Because I'm not feeling fine right now. My school bag broke and grandmother is angry with me. It wasn't my fault, but I can't tell her that. I can only tell you. I don't have much time, because if grandmother or grandfather realize that I've sneaked out of the house, they'll be angry again. But I had to do it because I wanted to talk to you. I love you, Mum and I miss you. If you see Santa, please ask him if he can send Dad home, okay? Thanks, Mum. I have to go now."  
Then he hurried back to the house wondering that his tears had frozen on his cheeks.  
He undressed, snuggled into his bed, and cried himself to sleep.

\-------------------------------------------------- --------

Ben sat at the kitchen table with a book and read when his grandfather came in. "What are you doing, Ben?" He asked. "It's holidays and you're learning?" Ben smiled. "I only read, grandfather." "Well, read educates, but would you like to go ice fishing with me? Surely that's better than reading." The boy beamed. He loved doing stuff with his grandfather.

At the lake, Ben skidded over the ice. If only he had skates. Then he could play ice hockey. His classmates all played hockey. He had often secretly watched them and wished he could play with them. However, he wasn't sure if they would let him, even if he had skates.  
"Come, Ben!", called grandfather, "I'll show you how to make a hole in the ice." Ben slid toward his grandfather, stumbled over a bump in the ice, and fell. "Damn!", he mumbled and heard his grandfather say, "Thou shalt not curse, Benton!" The boy scrambled to his feet and apologized. "It wouldn't have happened with skates," he grumbled, and his grandfather laughed.

"Here, take the ice fishing rod.", Said the grandfather and Ben was proud. "Now you have to be patient." But an almost nine-year-old has only limited patience and so he soon began to fidget and the grandfather admonished him: "Sit still, Ben, otherwise never a fish will bite." But Ben couldn't. Grandfather told him stories so he wouldn't get bored.  
Suddenly the fishing line moved and Ben jumped up. "Grandfather, there's something biting!" he shouted. Grandfather laughed. "Quiet, boy, you have to give him room." "B... but..." Ben pulled on the rod. "No Ben, so you’ll lose him." The grandfather stood behind him and helped him reel the fishing line in. The fish fought, but after a while they could pull him out.  
Ben was sweating and panting, but he was proud. It was a big fish.  
"Let's go home," said the grandfather, "you're sweating and that's not good in the cold, it would be a pity if you were sick at Christmas." Ben shrugged. Maybe that was not a bad idea? But what if his Dad came home?  
Then rather not.

Grandmother praised him for having caught such a large fish, and because she seldom praised, he was even prouder than before.  
"We treat ourselves to the fish for dinner today," she said and began to gut it.  
Ben picked up his book again and made himself comfortable by the old wood stove.  
Then he saw something in the book that he didn't know.  
An orange.  
"Grandmother, do you know that?", he asked, showing her the picture. "Of course," she replied, "That's an orange. A fruit that grows only in warm countries. In Spain, for example." Ben looked at his grandmother with wide eyes,"Have you ever eaten an orange, grandmother?", he asked curiously." Yes, do not you?" He shook his head."How do they taste?" "Oh, very good," she said, "Mostly they are very sweet and very juicy, some are a little bit bitter, you have to peel them before you eat them, the peel can be used as fragrance dispensers, they are very fragrant. Most countries include oranges for Christmas."  
Ben thought about it. "Can I have one, grandmother?" He asked bashfully. "I will chop extra wood too." Grandmother laughed, "You don't need to work extra, Benton, but oranges are hard to get here, but if I can get them, you get one." "Thank you!" Ben beamed. Grandmother always said that if he wanted something, he had to earn it and now she wanted to try to get him an orange without him doing anything for it? Okay, maybe as a Christmas present. Now he was happy a little.

\-------------------------------------------------- --------

On Christmas Eve, the grandparents dressed for the Christ Mass. Ben dawdled a bit. He didn't like going to church, it was boring for an eight-year-old. He already knew the Christmas story. Grandmother had often read to him from the Bible, but since he wanted to be a good boy, he just went along. Only what if his Dad came home and nobody was there? Would he go then again? Or would he know that they had gone to Mass?  
Of course he would know, after all, he was a Mountie! But to make sure, Ben wanted to secretly leave a note for his Dad.  
"Benton, come on and don't troll around. If we're late, the best seats are gone and we have to sit in the back, where you can barely hear the pastor.", grandmother scolded." Well, Ben would like that. "I'm coming!", he called back and scribbled hurriedly on a piece of paper:

"Dear Dad!  
if we're not there, you'll find us at the church.  
You can wait here or just follow.

Greeting, Benton Fraser "

Then he put the note on the kitchen table and slipped out of the house. After taking a few steps, Grandfather suddenly said, "Oh my, I have to go back, Martha! I left my glasses, but without them I can't sing the hymns because I can't read the little script."  
Ben was startled. If grandfather went back, he would find the note for Ben's Dad and then … "Let me get you your glasses, grandfather." The boy offered, "I can run faster than you." Grandfather laughed: "Yeah, that's right, kid, but I don't know exactly where I put it, I have to look for it first, I'm going to go there."

"Why are you so fidgety, Benton?" The grandmother asked as they made their way to the church. The boy shrugged. "I don't know, grandma, I'm excited because I have to sing in the church choir right now." That was not completely fake, but only half the truth. For one year Ben sang in the church choir. That was fun, but he had no contact with the other children outside the choir. Nobody liked him, but he didn't care. Well, maybe he did care, but he took it. He would have liked to have a friend, but if no one wanted him as a friend, he could do nothing about it. He got along alone too.

"Oh, Benton," moaned grandmother, "There's nothing to worry, and you're not doing it for the first time."  
Secretly, however, Ben hoped that the grandfather would not find the note, but that was unlikely. What would he say? Would he scold him for believing no, hoping that his Dad would come home and his hope would be disappointed again? Or did the grandfather know more?

George Fraser went into the kitchen and searched the kitchen cupboard for his reading glasses. He was convinced that he had put them there when he helped Martha setting the table. Actually, there they were. To make sure they really were his glasses, even though he knew they belonged to him, he put them on. Then he saw the note on the table and wondered what that message was. He picked it up and read it.  
His eyes looked sadly at the piece of paper. His Ben wanted to have his Dad home for Christmas. He had also written that on his wish list. But the short text on this note showed all his hope. He seemed so sure that his father would come home this Christmas. "Oh, Robert!", Sighed the old man, "I really wish you would care more about your boy, he needs you." Then he put the note back in place and left the house. He felt sorry for his grandson.

\-------------------------------------------------- --------

 

Ben was awake early on Christmas morning. He was, like all children, quite excited. Would his wish come true? Would Dad come home? What would be for him under the tree?  
Dad certainly not!  
He chuckled at the thought. Well, it was not a real Christmas tree. Grandmother said fir-trees were also living beings and belonged in the forest, not in the living room. Not even at Christmas, because they would die there. And wasn't she right? Ben accepted it. His mum, who had once told him that nature was her religion, had told him something similar about trees.  
So they had only a few twigs, which had voluntarily given the Christmas trees by losing them, put into the big vase and Ben had made with the grandmother a few ornaments, with which they had decorated the branches.  
Ben had also made presents for his grandparents. His grandmother had taught him sewing and embroidery, and so he had embroidered her name on her favorite handkerchief, which she used only on Sundays and holidays, and carved a moose for his grandfather. It had been a bit chunky and not quite perfect, but Ben was sure grandfather will find it was okay, he had taught him how to carve only last summer and he needed some more practice.  
He had carefully wrapped the presents in newspaper and decorated them with small fir twigs. Now he kept them under his bed.  
He got up, slipped to the door and opened it a crack. The grandparents still seemed to sleep. The boy took out the presents and sneaked into the living room. There, under the vase of fir green, lay a few packages and Ben was curious what was inside, but he had to be careful. He added the presents for the grandparents and quietly went back to his room. There he hopped back into bed and cuddled up. It was cold in the chamber and beautiful frost flowers grew on the window. It had started to snow outside.

 

"Hey, who wants to oversleep the gift exchange?" Ben opened his eyes and looked into the good-natured face of his grandfather. "Good morning, Grandpa," the boy said in a sleepy voice. "Good morning, Ben. Don't you want to get up and see if Father Christmas has brought you presents?" "Yes, Grandpa!" Ben tossed the blanket aside and jumped up, surprised that it was already warm in the room while he was still asleep. Grandfather picked up the boy and put him on his shoulders. "Hey!" Ben laughed, "I'm too big for that!" Grandfather also laughed and danced with him through the chamber. "You are not too big as long as I can carry you. You're the most beautiful gift your grandmother and I ever got, do you know that?"  
A warm feeling flowed through the boy, even though his Dad didn't come home, he was still loved and that was good.

After breakfast, the grandmother decided that Ben was allowed to unpack his presents. He got some new leather gloves with colorful print like the Inuit made, a new school bag, brand new and some sweets. After grandmother had asked him to look into the schoolbag, he did so and found an orange ball. Curious, he pulled it out and looked at it in surprise. "An orange ..." he whispered in awe. "Yes, Ben," said the grandmother. "You've wished for that."  
He turned the fruit in his hands and looked at it from all sides. Then he sniffed it and licked the peel. "You have to peel it first," said the grandmother, but Ben didn't want to eat it right away. He wanted to keep it for awhile, for a very special occasion.  
He liked the school bag very much and thanked his grandparents. The gloves were nice too. "Hey," said Grandfather suddenly, "there's another package that you missed, Ben."  
Skates! Ben thought immediately, but when he saw the package, he realized that there certainly couldn't be skates in there. It was a book. A very interesting book about survival in the wilderness. "Wow! Thanks!" Ben shouted as he flipped through it. "These are great gifts, but now you have to open yours."  
The grandparents did and were touched. Grandmother even had a tear in her eye. She was proud of her grandson and that he had learned the new skills so quickly. Grandfather immediately realized that the carving was a moose and Ben was relieved. Then it was not so bad after all. "Thank you, Benton." Grandfather said in a slightly shaky voice. "That is beautiful." Ben beamed.

He had another present under his bed. For his Dad. From leather scraps he had sewn him a wallet. It had been difficult, as the leather was quite firm and he had stabbed his fingers bloody. But he had done it and he liked it. Maybe his Dad would like it too?  
"I'll go outside for a bit, until there's lunch, okay, Grandma?" Ben shouted. The grandmother replied, "When you are done with your chores, you may go." "I am!", Shouted the boy, put on his boots and jacket, took the cap and his new mittens and disappeared outside. Grandmother watched him, smiling.

\-------------------------------------------------- -------

Ben ran down to the lake. He was sure the other kids would play hockey there and he wanted to watch them. From afar he saw the colorful crowd on the ice. It was a tradition for the kids to have a match on Christmas morning. Many had visitors from other places. Cousins or friends. Ben stopped at a distance under a tree and watched as they skated over the ice on their skates and chased the puck. Some had real hockey sticks, but most had only self-made sticks. They had split into two teams, of which the children of one team had tied a blue band and the other a red band around the right upper arm to distinguish the teams.  
From sticks and old fishing nets they had made two goals and set up.  
Ben was excited. How much would he like to join them. He recognized some classmates. One of them shouted: "Hey, Fraser, come on the ice, we need a defender!" But Ben shrugged sadly. "Don't have skates," he replied meekly. "Then go home and get them!" The boy shouted, but Ben shook his head. The boy looked at him in surprise. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright. "You don't have any?" He asked in disbelief. Ben shook his head again. "A Canadian kid who doesn't have hockey skates ...", the boy said in amazement, "You really are weird, Fraser." The others laughed and the boy joined them again. Sadly, Ben turned and walked away. Nobody paid attention to him anymore.

Was it his fault he had no skates? He had books instead, lots of them. But it wasn't the same. At the moment he would rather have skates. It was the first time the kids had asked him if he wanted to play. What would he give for a pair of skates right now? Okay, maybe he was unfair. His grandparents didn't have much money and always thought of the practical things he needed. That was good and right and he loved his grandparents and they loved him, but what did they know about the needs of an eight year old who had no friends because he was "weird"? Because he had no skates and no mother …

Ben sniffed and wiped his face with the new mittens. He went down to the river where he had his cave. His secret retreat between the rocks. It was not a real cave, rather a niche between the rocks, but it was sheltered from the wind and you had a good view over the river delta.  
The landscape was white and barren. He usually loved that, but today it saddened him. If he would have at least a sled dog team …

\------------------------------------------------------------------

 

After awhile he was cold and he decided to go home. He didn't know what else to do and at home he could read in his new book. He crawled out of the cave and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the white space. Something moved in the distance. Something dark, long. A dog sled team? Who was driving around so far out here with a dog sled? Maybe Sgt. Frobisher, Dad's friend, who brought him greetings from his father? That has happened every now and then.  
Ben's grandparents had always warned him not to be cautious about strangers. You never knew who you had in front of you. But what if it was Sgt. Frobisher? Maybe he would allow him to drive the team? Sometimes he did that.  
The boy was torn by his curiosity and the urge to run home.  
The team came closer and now he saw that it wasn't Sgt. Frobisher, but the silhouette was still familiar to him. It took him awhile to realize who he was seeing, but then a radiance ran over his face and all the sadness and disappointment were blown away.  
"Dad!", Shouted the boy and ran to the team as fast as he could. "DAD!" his lungs burned, but he didn't slow down.

Robert Fraser was tired. Only a few minutes and he would reach his parents' house. Then he could rest and hug his boy. He had had a few days off after solving a difficult case where he had persecuted the suspect for hundreds of miles. Sgt. Robert Fraser had never felt so tired and burned out and had been so happy to come home. At least not since his beloved Caroline died. His boy would be astonished to see what he had brought as a Christmas gift. A complete ice hockey equipment. Even with a helmet. Robert had been rewarded with a good job and knew how much Ben wanted hockey skates. So he had bought him hockey equipment from the premium. The boy would be happy. The thought of his beloved child's big, blue eyes made him hold on for the last few miles.

"DAD!" Robert heard someone calling from afar. What was that? "DAD!" He heard again and saw in the distance how a tiny figure was racing towards him. "Benton ..." he whispered in disbelief, "Where ..." Only one kid in the Northwest Territories could run that fast. Robert grinned at the thought. He drove the dogs to get to his boy faster.

Ben slowed down. He gasped. Yes, that was definitely his Dad. His heart leaped with joy and excitement. That was the best Christmas he would experience after his mother's death, he was sure. "Dad ..." he gasped.  
Then his father was with him. He stopped the sled and jumped off. The tiredness had suddenly disappeared. Robert hugged his boy, picked him up and whirled him around. "Ben!" He shouted, "I missed you so much! Merry Christmas, son." Ben pressed his face into the fur of Robert's coat and whispered in a tear-stained voice, "I missed you too, Dad, but now everything's fine. Merry Christmas."

In the sky the brightest star blinked ...


End file.
